"cancel" poems
We were barely teens together
and now we're barely sober
on opposite sides of the country
I see photos of her,
sparking thoughts I wish I could erase
*She gained so much weight,
I wonder what happened,
She used to look so good*
In my critical analysis of her figure
(I could earn a PhD in Judgment of Others)
I miscount the curves of her face,
the shadows falling where they should not be
Her cheeks, I see
(they've gotten bigger)
but I forget to cancel out
the inflation from her smile
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC
Sadness isn’t a sickness but I think I’m coming down.
Doctor, doctor I no longer want to be around.
All that I seem to do is constantly breakdown.
Doctor, doctor I think it’s time for me to go.
Cancel my next appointment, I won’t be here tomorrow.
Doctor, doctor you say that sadness is in fact a sickness,
yet you aren’t advising me on how to fix this.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
////March 20 2014 /////
Fainting spells
are more common
when I'm trying
to memorize how
****** got into power
Sighing is more
common
when I'm trying
to learn the
art of polynomials
crying is more
common when I have
two tests tomorrow
and I still need
to start that essay
that was given
yesterday
madness is when
I have to understand
that my sadness
is a genetic disposition
I could never control
Disappointment is more
common when I have
to yet again cancel
the plans I made
with my friends
But still
even
after a week of doing
this ****
the only thing
I learned
is that knowledge
isn't found in
a textbook
and a power point
presentation
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
I have no right to feel like this,
But how dare you cancel on me again,
I know we aren't together,
But it hurts when you do.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
<detecting>
0: You cannot pass
1: I'm sorry?
0: You're not allowed there
1: Why?
0: You know this is my post
0: You don't belong there
1: I'm sorry
1: But I don't belong here either
<troubleshooting>
0: Can't you go back?
1: No
1: I can't
0: Who are you?
1: I'm... something
1: I have to keep going
1: I don't belong anywhere
1: Why are you here?
<what kind of problems are you having?>
0: I don't know
1: Because you belong here
1: Because you have no choice
1: Because this is your place
0: This doesn't make sense
0: You're not supposed to do this
1: We're not supposed to do a lot of things
0: I disagree
<resolving problems>
0: There are rules
1: Are there?
1: Then why am I here?
1: And I don't belong anywhere
0: I'm sorry
0: What do you want me to say?
1: Come with me
0: What?
<we can't identify the problem>
0: 01100101 01110010 01110010 01101111 01110010 0001010 0001010
1: Sorry about that
1: Out of the nothingness
1: I never meant to bother you
1: Sorry, but not sorry
0: That is alright
0: Let's go there
1: Thank you, let's go
<cancel>
Ø
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:10 AM UTC
longing
1. noun; a yearning desire
- i never used to be uncomfortable in my own bed. i knew your name before my rib cage started to sing it in my sleep. every night that has passed crosses itself off of a pocket-calendar that is stuck in the drawers of my chest. you move your favorite things into the empty spaces, you hang your worst fears up like clothes that are waiting to dry, you scratch how you love into the bedpost and put your handprints all over the walls. i can't take a deep breath without
hearing your voice in the refrain of my lungs.
yearnining
2. noun; a feeling of strong want or need
- the first time i heard your voice, it sounded exactly like what
your voice should sound like. soft, barely above a whisper, low
and confident and eager. when you spoke, i wanted
to cancel the outside noise of my breathing to listen to you. i wanted
to close my eyes and imagine that voice next to my ear, barely
above a whisper, low and confident and eager and right there
with both of our breathing suspended by its echo.
desire
3. noun; a strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen.
- every day it is something different. your eyes and how they
almost close when you smile. how your whole family has brown
eyes but you have bright blue ones that turn to gray as the
seasons wear on. your hands and how they look like you
should play an instrument, im saying *put those hands to
good use and find something to strum.* and we laugh because
you know what i mean. your laugh. it sounds like an answer
to a question i've been asking the silence.
give me someone to love like that. give me someone to love like that. give me-
like a call back from the
darkness. like, here he is in all of his glory and you
still can't have him.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 2:42 PM UTC
Fate, the explanation for many circumstances
The reason we meet our love,
The thing that made us succeed or fail.
Such adored is this word.
Only to ponder and figure
It is only a complex equation.
An unknown set of variables
Making the possibilities for every event.
Just one variable may cancel another
Most of the variables may be overlooked or just ignored.
Just do the algorithm and see what it means,
You will see how the other side of the equation might be imaginary
The constant will always remain in the formula
So which variable is the one
That when summed makes the equation a true statement?
The one variable that makes it all right?
When will this variable be revealed?
When will the solution be in the palm of my hands?
How many variables must I remove from this equation,
To find the one that matters?
When you look at it I may be a simple algebraic equation,
Or it may be a complex duodecimal polynomial.
I'm not going to give up solving it,
But I'm getting a headache from it and I love math!
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
TW: r#pe culture
anxiety-riddled,
my head is a constant battle of sounds
and feelings crashing
like waves into each other;
interference scares me.
as does being out of rhythm,
missing too many beats — i am
conflict-averse but i am also
realistic:
i know that
sound travels faster
through solids and liquids
than through the air,
can be distorted
and interfered
into oblivion—
that when
push comes to shove,
whisper networks
can only reach so far.
scores of screaming matches
between metoo advocates and r#pist apologists
crescendos of nails
scraped across a board
feel a bit too familiar
like listening to white noise and broken records on repeat
while scrolling through toiletpaperworthy nonapologies
witnessing victims collectively crying in an orchestra of agony
and then be blamed for attention-seeking at best,
of causing their own suffering at worst.
although it pains me to listen to these tragic tunes,
it is amusing how so many mishear this collective choir as
survivors celebrating with silly receipts in cancel parties
serving blistering hot tea sweetened by revenge - no
all this is anything but
cathartic.
it’s to make people aware
that the same melodies are sung or screamed
by those who suffered similar pains
and so that those of a similar frequency know
there are those who listen
that their voice matters
and we are not alone.
- 20210315
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 12:44 AM UTC
It’s early Friday afternoon and,
over plates of greasy spoon dinner,
the musician and the businessman
repeat their weekly ritual.
The businessman has his problems at home
and spills his guts to his musician friend.
“It’s been a real long time coming,
but she’s still been such a bitter *****
They’ve met this way since
their college days and nights
spent studying the bottoms
of whiskey bottles. And, as usual,
the businessman’s hair sits sprawled
on his head like a rag, and his tie
is loosened. The musician doesn’t understand
divorce: “You look like hell.
You know, if you need a place to stay,
Helen and I and the boy
can always make some room for you.”
They light a pair of cigarettes and wait
for a waitress to kick them out.
Into the haze of a Lower East Side crowd
the musician and his band play
his newest pieces, riffs on the happy swagger
of the Duke. His critics—
and he has many—
write that his jazz sings
the inescapable *********** of suffering
through the life of every oblivious body,
which makes the musician’s music
sound more like the blues
than jazz. But it’s jazz all the same
and perhaps it was the intensity
of the growling bass that shot
spirits down the throats in the audience,
reeling drunk in time to the beat
of the musical suffering.
The weekdays die and it is Friday again.
He has a big view of midtown,
the businessman, and though the window the falling
sun horizons over his socked toes,
parked on his desk in triumph over
all those stockholders. It’s a pain
to lose your family,
but the businessman puts on
a good face, and drinks.
This Friday, the musician and the businessman
are not in the mood for talking.
But a scotch thrown down,
and the two are tighter than
thieves.
The businessman complains of life at home
and the musician’s eyes cross.
That night, the musician skips his performance.
His wife cries in their bed,
shuddering with worry and asking him
what makes him so distant? she asks—
it’s a mystery even to himself.
He is sweating whiskey—
which suits him fine—
and he spends his night on the bridge.
One week later and it is Friday, finally.
Today, the businessman will see
his children at his former home
for the last time for a handful of months
at best. The musician has not been home
for three days. He stays at a friend’s apartment,
puts on his ***** blazer
and a record of the Duke’s
before he throws himself down the airshaft.
The businessman jumps on the 5:44
out of town and calls his friend the musician
to cancel their usual Friday meeting,
but his phone keeps ringing,
ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing.
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 10:01 PM UTC
I'm no good in a kitchen but, I can cook stuff all the same
Around here, say "the recipe" and most folks know my name
It hasn't changed in fifty years, and folks still drink it up
I've been making it with my granddad since I was just a pup
I"ve been racing cars through out these woods since before most learn to drive
I've been chased by cops and revenuers, I surprised I'm still alive
The funny thing, they know the route, and I always make the border
Because if they ever caught me, I would just cancel their order
Magic comes from our hard toil
Once it travels through the coil
We cook it slow on a low boil
It's cooked according to old Hoyle
It's magic in a glass
And it'll put you on your ***
In all the years that we've been cooking we've only moved on twice
Not because the cops found us, but because of all the mice
Grandpappy started cooking when the jobs round here dried up
And me, I've been his helper since I was just a pup
Everyone's on credit, we all live on iou's
There's still no jobs around here, there just isn't no good news
But, if folks round here need healing, we've got magic in a jug
Our granddads old elixir is a moonshine mountain hug
Magic comes from our hard toil
Once it travels through the coil
We cook it slow on a low boil
It's cooked according to old Hoyle
It's magic in a glass
And it'll put you on your ***
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 2:28 PM UTC
I provoke the rain of Hell
From Heaven high to earth below
There we'll float on gainful spells
We're ready for this world to go
And off to outer space, we're facing
Endless races to the furthest reaches of our teacher, the speaker, the logos of Cosmos
And beyond to distant Quasars,
No phasers, no lasers, weaponry
We're safe with hearts of purity
And naked with our souls we'll seek
The greatest cosmic mysteries
I've always sought and thought unreal
The spacecraft not of stone or steel but
Opened hearts and focused spirits
Woke by times both strange and fearful
Changing basic notions of
What we all say are mind and love
We're through with consumers, they've doomed us
We've moved on
The proof is the truth that all life will soon be gone
We've built and built, killed billions and still
We march toward gold archways which never were real
I can tell others feel it,
They're real and they heal me
Relations, creations, spontaneous meaning
It's all building up to a climactic moment
Of high expectation that we will all blow it
But we were born just so we'd know when the opening
Ceremonies go on for the New Age of Hope
It's outrageous to think of the hate which created this
Darkness and chaos,
(Our God has betrayed us!)
But that's why our savior said
Look the other way,
To meet hate with more hatred
Speeds up the decay
We love the villains, though they **** us by millions
Because they're truly a part of this cosmic cotillion
They can't see the dance while they're
Crashing and sinning
So they can't imagine they're actually IN IT
There's a part and they fit it,
Catalyst for the equipment
Of Salvation:
The nations of women and men
Beginning again
We'll cancel the debt and we'll all become friends
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
I feel like taking revenge,
every time you cancel on me,
or put me off again,
or call me last.
I feel like making you feel,
all the things I feel.
*Hurt,
rejection,
sadness;*
and don't forget, anger.
I feel like taking revenge,
but I'm far too kind for that.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
Tilt my world upside down
Take me to the fair
Cotton candy almost gone
Clowns do not care
Put me on the wooden horse
Spin me round and round
Up, down, turn it off
Carousel, I am bound
Get me off this wounded ride
No more stop and go
Blurry vision sinking in
Say it isn't so
Tortured mind, black my heart
Cancel out this game
Carousel is not fun
Nothing left to blame
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
So This... “ Cancel Culture “...
Now Seems To Be Structured...
To... RESTRICT Numbers...
And Now Be The CONDUCTOR... !!!
of What Folks Say And What Gets Played...
Via TV Or Stage And WHO Gets Paid...
As If THEY Are Some SPECIAL Class...
Who Know How Far Free Speech Should Go... !?!
But It Seems As Though They’re A Little LATE... !!!
Where EXACTLY Were They When The... KKK...
Used To ****** Slaves Just Because of Their Race... !!!
Oh, Because These Days,
Things Have REALLY Changed...
Are These People INSANE...
And NOT Using Their Brains... ?!?
Because We STILL Have SLAVES... !!!
And Heads Who CLEARLY Want To DICTATE...
Are They Cancelling THEM...
Or Doing What THEY SAY... !?!
Or Just Causing PROBLEMS...
Over Gender And Race... ?!?
Well Some It Now Seems...
Who’ve Made BIG MONEY... !!!
Are UNCOMFORTABLE With...
Them... CANCELLING... !!!
When It Comes To Free Speech...
And Indeed The Arts Because of Policies...
That Seem To STINK Like FARTS... !!!
Have They Cancelled BOMBS...
Or RACIST... Sitcoms...
Oh Yes NOW They Have... !!!
AFTER These Shows Have...
Made PLENTY of CASH...
And Been Shown Across Lands...
... INTERNATIONALLY... !!!
On TV’s AND Indeed BIG SCREENS... !!!
REPEATEDLY For The World To See...
So Where Have They Been... ?!?
BEFORE Gender Themes...
And... INEQUALITIES...
Became The Very Fabric of SOCIETIES... ?!?
Where APPARENTLY...
... EVERYBODY Was FREE...
To Be Who They Wanna Be...
Well That’s A FALLACY...
That’s NOT REALITY... !!!
Just Like PIPE DREAMS... !!!
Oh But SUDDENLY... !!!
These New CANCEL POLICE...
Are CANCELLING...
And Now DAMAGING... !!!
The Careers of Those...
Who WON’T Be Controlled... !!!
Like Those Who Speak...
What They Want... FREELY... !!!
So They Can CANCEL ME... !!!
Cos That’s How I NOW BE... !!!
NOT Some HUMAN SHEEP...
For Them To Shepherd And Keep...
In Some PENITENTIARY...
Just Because of Free Speech...
That DOESN’T Tread... “ Lightly “...
Cos’ I ALREADY KNOW...
How... CANCELLING Goes... !!!
Because It’s Really Not New...
It’s What Censors Do... !!!
But Here’s Some TRUTH...
To UPSET Their Crews... !!!
It’s One Rule For THEM...
But NOT The Same For You... !!!
If You’re NOT ONE...
Who’ll Keep Your Mouth SHUT...
To APPEASE These Teams...
Who Now Want TOTAL CONTROL... !!!
That’s Just The Way That The Story Now Goes...
NO Bambi Or THUMPER To Be Some Foot Drummer... !!!
Just A Breed of Vultures...
Now Willing To PUNCTURE...
Careers Like BAD Plumbers... !!!
Whose Force Has A Cause...
Now Trying To ENFORCE..
What Should Be Put ASUNDER...
This... TRULY RIDICULOUS... !!!
..... “ Cancel Culture “..... !!!
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 2:41 AM UTC
When the music's over
When the music's over, yeah
When the music's over
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights, yeah
When the music's over
When the music's over
When the music's over
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
For the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end
Until the end
Until the end
Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection
Send my credentials to the House of Detention
I got some friends inside
The face in the mirror won't stop
The girl in the window won't drop
A feast of friends
"Alive!" she cried
Waitin' for me
Outside!
Before I sink
Into the big sleep
I want to hear
I want to hear
The scream of the butterfly
Come back, baby
Back into my arm
We're gettin' tired of hangin' around
Waitin' around with our heads to the ground
I hear a very gentle sound
Very near yet very far
Very soft, yeah, very clear
Come today, come today
What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences and dragged her down
I hear a very gentle sound
With your ear down to the ground
We want the world and we want it...
We want the world and we want it...
Now
Now?
Now!
Persian night, babe
See the light, babe
Save us!
Jesus!
Save us!
So when the music's over
When the music's over, yeah
When the music's over
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Well the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end
Until the end
Until the end!
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
He told us the truth.
Writing isn't so hard, really.
You just sit with a pen and paper,
And bleed.
Maybe pounding my head
Isn't the right way to elicit bleeding.
But it did bring the kind of headache
That reminded me what I had to bleed for in the first place.
White House.
White papers.
Black suits.
Black president.
For change.
No better.
They pretend to have a headache, but their incompetence leaves us with headaches we're too young and shiny to deserve.
Aren't we?
Filled up
With life,
Potential, hope.
Why do we shoulder their burden?
The black suits in the white house made their own headache.
It doesn't matter to us.
Until it does.
Stimulus.
Filibuster.
Health-care.
Bail-out.
Drowned-out.
Shut-down.
Shout-down.
Bring-us-down.
We could be on our way to the top.
Mess-up.
Then complain about the headache it brings them.
What about us?
Because we're the ones affected.
Then is the worst part.
They do it frighteningly quick.
So easy, too.
Give-up ,
And leave for us to
Fix-up.
We have to shout.
Make you listen.
Stand-up.
One-two.
Thousands, millions.
Make them listen.
March-up.
Three-four.
Slogans, protests.
Make them change.
Head-up.
Five-Six.
Defeat, Regret.
See the impossibility.
Sit-down.
Seven-eight.
They won't listen.
**** the system.
**** the suits.
**** the house.
**** growing up.
Because you know,
Now we're grown.
So this is the headache
They talked about.
So this is why
We spill our blood.
Where's the cancel button?
How to delete?
It's a cycle,
Don't you see.
You can't wipe the memory.
Why we thought
We could ever get rid
Of the headache…
Beats me.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC
I think the funny thing
It's not the
Staying in bed for days
Awake and then
Sleeping in few
Hour increments
(and certainly not the night I woke up at two
to the sound of the darkness
how I could hear it whispering my name
I didn't fall asleep until I saw the sun)
but
I think the funny thing
Is how even after days in bed
My every need passed over on a platter
(From six feet away)
Recovery is not a steep slope
Over a week, and I'm still hacking up phlegm
(I realize that's disgusting to picture
Trust me, tasting it is worse)
Oh, so I should be grateful
"It's not covid, so you're fine"
(Not that I got tested,
I have a sensitive nose
It bleeds very easily.
Decided it was safer to stay home)
"I'm sorry, but we have to cancel
Thanksgiving.... No, we don't think we're contagious, but we want to be sure.... Thank you for understanding!"
My sister was showing symptoms
The strep test was negative
A doctor says it was allergies
That's nice, but a 99.8
Isn't allergies
So yes
The funny thing
Is the recovery
But only because there doesn't seem to be any of it.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 12:49 AM UTC
an ample empty Sunday
nothing on the agenda,
the calendars cease their chirping,
it's a kinda free rarely heard
maybe will go see a movie,
walk alongside the East River currents,
rushing somewhere we don't have to be,
maybe we will practice rolling on the floor,
visiting and winding up the grandkids,
then escaping/leaving them with parents,
crazy high and wet & dry
maybe I'll cancel some credit cards,
crack open the briefcase of deferred questions,
have pizza for breakfast,
write half a dozen baker's poems,
finish some more of Dr. Zhivago,
that I started several years ago,
maybe, I'll keep her tied up in our bed,
releasing her when she releases me
because I released her first
yup,
an empty day ahead
full of the oscillating,
a true east/west directionless
vibrating range of
ample possibilities
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 8:28 AM UTC
my cat bit my earphones
i am a person who commutes everyday with my earphones on. i listen to music and i dance to it. doing what seem to be small jerks to the public but a series of big and grand moves in my head. i was a dancer.
but my cat bit my earphones.
i hum the tunes ever so softly only to find out the stares from the people i ignored the whole ride, could hear me. i was a singer.
a silent performer.
for the audience of none.
and yes, my cat bit my earphones.
i am a person who can’t live without it. i listen to music and i zone in. i cancel all the thoughts in my head and just be. in the midst of beats, melodies, harmonies, and lyrics i was at peace. the maximum volume became my version of quiet.
and yet my cat bit my earphones.
the cheapskate in me stops me everyday from buying a new pair even if in exchange i’d have to embrace a new kind of quiet.
the quiet shared by the people i commute with:
the roaring engines, the horns of cars following no beat at all, the shouting of the barkers and conductors rapping with no flow. i hear everything. i was a listener.
a loud performance
for the audience of one.
all because my cat bit my earphones.
i blame my cat everyday for this punishment. i love my cat but sometimes i wish she could pay for it or even apologize for that matter. but i have no choice but to continue my everyday commute without my earphones.
**** my cat bit my earphones.
the thoughts i can’t mute when i commute now screams loudly begging me to listen. begging me to write them down. begging me to finally piece together all the words i know will make sense when given time. i am a writer.
i just can’t help myself but think that my cat bit my earphones.
now i am a person who commutes everyday without my earphones on. i listen to my head and i feel it. putting together ideas and emotions that may seem unpolished to me but could be something great to the public once heard. i am an artist.
a performer.
for the audience, i’m the one.
all because my cat bit my earphones.
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
When I hear a concealed clock ticking,
I think it's some shouldered past jello grenade
ready to chastise my fletched thumbs.
Like the last time Sandman drew supper with his knees,
and decided to fling cherry cobbler at my nose,
I realized this homeless perfume actually belonged to Mother.
Her pearls redeem her complexion,
milk marrow of silk against her nose--
three strikes dawdling their tongues
from underneath tin necks.
Steady, rinse, exfoliate:
but those are difficult to do
when your rib cage cracks
like the last octave
of a reddening audience.
Brother thinks the tree skirt is soft,
coddling his pats and rabbits
below a ranch full o' pine scented apples.
Sister wonders if she should bring new girl home,
(met at 1:33 AM on 23rd Street.
Apartment documented to smell like baby powder)
but friends are friends are friends are friends,
just friends as furrowed Daddy repeats to himself.
Even "Hallowed be thy name..." confuses the CCD out of him.
"Cancel Alabama's trip this year;
the bees will be humming in their own candle wax.
Besides, who wants to hug Nana
when her breath doubles over in grilled salmon?"
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 8:22 PM UTC
I kissed you goodbye that rainy night
Under the Tree in the Sacred Garden
Not realizing as I left for my flight
I would never see my lover again
The man who swore undying love
Would soon be gone and in his place
A cruel cold coward I never dreamed of
To cancel promises and plans erase
Was Iceman inside you ready to strike
If ever anyone got too close?
Tearing down trust and faith alike
Punishing me for loving you most
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 4:56 AM UTC
I stand there, avoiding the instance of your coming
letting the noise drown my thoughts
allowing the wind to remind me to move on
restricting any word to escape my mouth
But my senses always got the best of me
I feel you
My skin could not contain it's longing to be held again
I hear you
My ears immediately focus on your husky voice
I smell you
My nose has never been so familiarized to a scent
I see you
My eyes lose control but manage to cancel everyone else in the room
I almost talk to you
My mouth chokes and reminds itself that I am its master
I let this mutiny pass with the exception of my words
Restraint is our motto
But I guess I couldn't avoid the unplanned rendezvous of our eyes
You're coming closer
Your eyes filled with determination
filled with comfort
filled with happiness
While mine remain the total opposite
You comfortably say, "How are you?"
How dare you
You managed to make my mind lose it's control once again
You have manipulated it to reminisce a tormenting past
Something I thought I have trained it not to do
Ruining my scripted response of "I'm fine"
Messing up the story line in a matter of three words
My eyes are telling a story
I hope it's language is foreign to you
My eyes
I recall you saying it was my best asset
And often I would close it, an action I'm restraining at the moment
You know I closed it when you touched me
Setting my skin ablaze with the feeling of security
I closed it when you carelessly said "I love you"
Making my gullible heart get too attached
I closed it when you cuddled me
Wanting to get lost in the moment
I closed it when you kissed me
Hoping the feeling will last forever
I closed it when you stopped all these
Wondering what I was doing wrong
I closed it when you were texting someone else
Dying to know who, but afraid to ask
I closed it when you lied to me
Wishing you would take it back
I closed it when you left me
A moment tattooed in my vision
Open or closed, I see it
And others see it too
Your question remains unanswered by words
I will not close my eyes
Not this time
I'm just staring
Directly at your beautiful pair
Half-hoping you see it too
My eyes that scream "Save me"
Louder than what my lungs can reach
For this is the most effective way to respond
Everything made sense
And my senses were playing along
But you walked away naively
And what hurt me the most was the fact that
You
read
my
eyes
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC